The Letter
by CooperGirlHH
Summary: In the middle of a summer night Helen Pevensie writes a letter to her husband. Companion piece to At Odds, of sorts. One-Shot! Set before LWW. Reviews are welcome


**The Letter**

 **Summary:** In the middle of a summer night Helen Pevensie writes a letter to her husband

 **Author's notes:** I can't recall where I have the information that Mrs. Pevensie's given name should be Helen, other than having read it in fanfiction. Is it mentioned in the books or films anywhere? I really don't know ... as for _Mr_. Pevensie's name I don't think it's mentioned anywhere, for I have read many different names for him in fanfic stories ... I think some had named him Colin, which I somehow liked, so I decided to go with that. However, it doesn't make much of a difference for this fic, because he won't appear really.

This actually just a collection of thoughts that Helen Pevensie may have about the worsening war and the resulting fear for family's well-being. It can be seen as a companion piece to my fic _**At Odds**_ , although you don't need to have read that in order to understand this one.

 **Disclaimer:** The characters are borrowed from C.S. Lewis' books (mostly for my own entertainment, but of course yours as well) **.**

 **Many thanks to Lydwina Marie, who kindly helped me editing! Great job!**

XXX

Dear Colin,

first of all I wanted to say I hope you're doing alright. It's been a while since your last telegram arrived and I can't shake off the terrible thought that something might have happened to you. I can't bear the idea of you not coming back to us. To me.

We all miss you very much, darling.

Here in London we witness the effects of war with increasing impact. Air raids are coming more often these days, and after a few very close calls I have finally made the decision to send the children away. They will spend the summer in the countryside with an old professor, and return in early September, about a week before Edmund's eleventh birthday. You know me, Colin, and I have no doubts that you understand how hard it was for me to make this decision. But I had to.

Of course, it was as hard for them as it was for me, to accept the necessity of this decision. But I shall be glad when I won't have to worry so much for their safety anymore. I have enough on my plate with worrying about you already, my love.

When I told the children the other day I was going to send them away to the countryside, it caused for some turmoil, I can tell you that ... but you know how they are. Peter has been surprisingly cooperative about my plans, though. I don't really know what kind of reaction I expected from him, to be honest, but he seemed perfectly fine with my decision. I can only hope the trip to the countryside does him some good. The strain of school is getting to him; they have such high standards at that institution we picked for him. And now that the holidays finally have started and he is at home, he keeps trying to make up for your absence. It's understandable because, as I already told you in my last letter, I started working at the hospital again. But I've told Peter several times that he shouldn't pressure himself so hard. I have my father coming over every other night to make up for both our absence. But you know Peter, he just wants to do his best to help.

Right now he's fast asleep in the armchair opposite me. It's just like Peter, isn't it? He'll fall asleep anywhere if only he is tired enough; and the past days have been more than tiring for him. I don't really know what to do with him right now, to be honest, wake him up or let him sleep. The longer he stays asleep in that position the worse he will feel in the morning. But he is so exhausted and I don't really want to disturb him, either. The times when I could just pick him up and carry him to his bed have long passed. I bet not even you would manage that anymore, Colin. You wouldn't believe how tall he is getting lately, he's growing so fast. And he is getting so handsome - actually, he looks more and more like you every day.

He reminds me of you so much that sometimes it is hard for me to look at him. I feel ashamed to say so, but is the truth.

Susan is being a great help, too. You know how she is, Colin - she always wants to take on more responsibility than she should at her age. She is trying hard to be a big girl and help out and make everything easier for me. But I dare not put too much strain on her, she has been battling with illness a lot lately. The fevers started at the end of the school term and the secretary finally telegraphed, asking me to come and pick her up before the beginning of the holidays. It made me think of how it was when she was little, do you remember? We came close to losing her several times to those high fevers when she was a baby. Thankfully she has been well again in the last few days and I want to keep it that way.

The other day she asked me to teach her how to cook. I think it was because she doesn't want her grandfather to come over so much anymore. Things are always a bit tense when my father is here. You would probably agree, seeing as you and him never really did get along so well, did you? Anyway, I promised Su that I would teach her but so far I haven't had the time. Of course, she needs to learn it soon, though - she is twelve now, and nobody knows how long it will be until she will get married and have a family of her own. It could be only six or seven years from now, and if you saw how pretty she is becoming ... it won't be long until a young man comes along and snatches her away from us.

However, I want her to stay a child for as long as she can.

As I have hinted before I am having some trouble with Edmund. He is being increasingly argumentative - honestly, Colin, you wouldn't recognise him. I mean, he was always a bit difficult but lately he is becoming downright hostile. For example, I can't leave him and Peter alone in the same room for two minutes before they start arguing; and I know it's not Peter who usually starts it (although I fear that Peter loses his patience with his brother more easily than he used to). I even sent Edmund to another school, where they are specialised on disobedient children. I don't think it helps much, really (although my father thinks differently).

The other day the headmaster called me into his office, telling my that our son has been picking on some of the younger children. Can you imagine our Edmund being a bully? However, when I tried to talk to him about it, he just brushed me off. I don't know what to do, there's no getting through to him. Father is not being much help on this end. He gave Ed a beating, twice actually, and I don't think I can bear it if he does it another time. Edmund may be boisterous and disobedient, but he is still so small; it almost gives me physical pain to think that my father lay his hands on him. It reminds me of how he used to beat John when he wasn't behaving, and quite honestly, Edmund is reminding me so much of my brother these days: it somehow fits.

As it is, I shall be happy to know him out of his grandfather's way for a couple of weeks - even if it's only for the summer.

As for Lucy ... she used to be so cheery, remember? Well, not anymore, at least not like she used to be. No wonder, though, and it's partly Edmund's fault - he's taken to picking on her, too. But it's also my father's work again. He keeps yelling at Lucy's for being "such a little baby" as he says. He doesn't understand that it makes her sad, when he argues with Edmund over dinner, and that this is part of the reason why she cries so often. She rarely used to cry, Colin, did she? Even when she was a baby, she would smile more than she cried. And she is so easy to please. About _anything_. I wonder if my father will ever learn to appreciate that.

Lucy was devastated when I told her that she would be away from me for the whole summer. She has never been away from her Mum for so long, but I am quite sure she will manage. I think, subconsciously, she is also worried about me, although I am sure she doesn't really understand the war and its effects as well as Peter and Susan do. But how could she? She's only eight and to her the world is full of wonders. The other day she picked me a bunch of flowers on her way back from school and we put them in a vase to together. And then there came next air raid and a bomb came down quite close; thankfully landing on the street rather than on - God forbid \- ours, or one of the neighbour's houses. But it make the ground shake badly enough that the vase with the flowers fell down and broke.

I can't help myself wondering if this was a foreboding ... if something terrible is to happen to her.

I'm increasingly worried about Father as well. He is behaving irrationally, if not to say I think he might be losing his mind, slowly. I couldn't even blame him, actually. It is the second time he has to live through a World War. If it was me, I would be losing my mind. I just hope the children don't notice. Most of the time he seems normal but then he comes along and tells to me that soon we will have cut down our food intake because of the war, and he advises me to make sure that Peter and Susan are always well fed. Even if it was at the expense of Edmund and Lucy!

How could he say something horrible like that? I should have slapped him hard across the face, but I was so taken aback, all I could do was to stare at him and shake my head. Later that night I cried myself to sleep.

Oh; Colin, how I wish you were here to go through this with me.

But indeed, lately they have started rationing the food. It's alright, though, the children still have enough to eat, all of them. It's my own share that I've shortened. I'm trying to not let them notice but I don't think they don't. At least Susan has rarely eaten up her portions, sternly telling me that I needed to eat as well. As much as I think that's sweet of her, I won't have any of it because I'm afraid she might fall ill again if she doesn't eat enough. Besides, Edmund is leaving enough for me anyway. I think he's become even pickier than he used to be although I can't say for sure if he really doesn't like the taste of what's put in front of him (as he claims) or if it is his way of telling how unsatisfied he is with everything. Whichever it is I wish he would start pulling himself together and eat; he's way too skinny already. But you know how stubborn he is, Colin.

Anyway, I've taken to giving giving most of the leftovers to Peter (which doesn't seem to suit Edmund either), so nothing is going to waste. Peter, at least, is grateful for every bite he gets; seeing as he has been through some serious growth spurts lately that's no surprise, either. And Lucy ... if you were here you'd hear me chuckle but you wouldn't believe how much food tiny little Lucy can put away these days. She needs it, though, and I am glad I am able to feed her. Even if it means that I will go to bed hungry sometimes.

So, apart from the fact that you're missing from our lives, one could say that we are holding up well enough, all things considered.

We praying for you every night, hoping that very soon you will return to us, whole and healthy. Until then I will keep you up to date on our lives back here.

With all my love,

Helen


End file.
